In honor of Kathryn Stockett's book I love, and the new movie that I can't see right now (why do only the macho action movies make it here?), I offer my musings on my own household help.
There's no rule that says we need to hire help. Many people choose not to, depending on where they live or the circumstances. But we do and probably always will, and I'll paint a brief picture why. It's not because I'm lazy, or because I live a life of luxury. I'd rather not spend the money or deal with occasional frustrations. It's complicated, but mostly good. The real reason we do it is for them. OK, and for us. I admit there are many things about my life that are easier than they would otherwise be. But it's for them, really. And for us. Win-win.
We have a fabulous didi who cooks and cleans. She has spent her entire life washing dishes by hand, so she doesn't miss having a dishwasher. She cleans all seven of my bathrooms. She mops, dusts, and vaccuums. She finds, buys, carries home, washes, bleaches, and uses our produce. We are her 11th American family she's cared for in 20 years. She irons our clothes and folds my laundry. We swap recipe ideas. As an interesting aside, I have more desire to cook and bake, since it's not out of necessity. And I really like not having the mess afterwards.
Her husband and son are our guards and gardners. They answer the constant influx of people at the door: the water truck, the generator fuel, various deliveries and servicemen. They open the gate for us, carry in my groceries, run errands. The other day they sharpened a boatload of pencils I needed for Primary. But the best part is that they play with my children. I mean PLAY with them. They kick around balls, play hide and seek, jump rope, pull weeds, plant flowers, twirl around. I can send the kids out and they drop everything to come play.
I still play with my children, too. That's just it. It takes a village. And around this village of mine, I'm happy to have others love my children too. And I love that I have more quality time with my children. I love that on the first day of school, she cleaned out their backpacks and repacked their lunches while I sat on the couch with my children and listened intently to reports of their day. I get to to play games with the kids while she makes us dinner. Then I get to sit down with them, have a nice conversation, and let her do the dishes. Our helpers are also my constant source of information for all things Nepali. They provide my children with an inside connection they would not have otherwise.
Yes, we give up our privacy. My kitchen is not my own, my yard is not my own, my car is not my own. We are always listened to and watched. Constant people in and out, all around. It took some getting used to but I barely notice the shared space any more. Instead, I know that they all have a clean, safe, happy place to work all day. They have clean water to drink and shelter from the rain and cold. Their son is attending college.
Do they talk about us behind our backs like in the book? Do they laugh at how much stuff we have, how much we take for granted? Probably. But I trust them, and I know they respect us in return. It's the kind of relationship that is hard to put into words, to explain. I would not understand if I were not living it.
Like I say, it's complicated, but in the end it's a real blessing.
There's no rule that says we need to hire help. Many people choose not to, depending on where they live or the circumstances. But we do and probably always will, and I'll paint a brief picture why. It's not because I'm lazy, or because I live a life of luxury. I'd rather not spend the money or deal with occasional frustrations. It's complicated, but mostly good. The real reason we do it is for them. OK, and for us. I admit there are many things about my life that are easier than they would otherwise be. But it's for them, really. And for us. Win-win.
We have a fabulous didi who cooks and cleans. She has spent her entire life washing dishes by hand, so she doesn't miss having a dishwasher. She cleans all seven of my bathrooms. She mops, dusts, and vaccuums. She finds, buys, carries home, washes, bleaches, and uses our produce. We are her 11th American family she's cared for in 20 years. She irons our clothes and folds my laundry. We swap recipe ideas. As an interesting aside, I have more desire to cook and bake, since it's not out of necessity. And I really like not having the mess afterwards.
Her husband and son are our guards and gardners. They answer the constant influx of people at the door: the water truck, the generator fuel, various deliveries and servicemen. They open the gate for us, carry in my groceries, run errands. The other day they sharpened a boatload of pencils I needed for Primary. But the best part is that they play with my children. I mean PLAY with them. They kick around balls, play hide and seek, jump rope, pull weeds, plant flowers, twirl around. I can send the kids out and they drop everything to come play.
I still play with my children, too. That's just it. It takes a village. And around this village of mine, I'm happy to have others love my children too. And I love that I have more quality time with my children. I love that on the first day of school, she cleaned out their backpacks and repacked their lunches while I sat on the couch with my children and listened intently to reports of their day. I get to to play games with the kids while she makes us dinner. Then I get to sit down with them, have a nice conversation, and let her do the dishes. Our helpers are also my constant source of information for all things Nepali. They provide my children with an inside connection they would not have otherwise.
Yes, we give up our privacy. My kitchen is not my own, my yard is not my own, my car is not my own. We are always listened to and watched. Constant people in and out, all around. It took some getting used to but I barely notice the shared space any more. Instead, I know that they all have a clean, safe, happy place to work all day. They have clean water to drink and shelter from the rain and cold. Their son is attending college.
Do they talk about us behind our backs like in the book? Do they laugh at how much stuff we have, how much we take for granted? Probably. But I trust them, and I know they respect us in return. It's the kind of relationship that is hard to put into words, to explain. I would not understand if I were not living it.
Like I say, it's complicated, but in the end it's a real blessing.
I'd do it! You make it sound so wonderful and it would be just the thing that would make my life perfect! I just ordered this book I keep hearing so much about! Bisous xo
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for blogging again, and including me! So many thoughts run through my head as I sit here at the airport in Baghdad: when did R acquire that studious look? B is so grown up! and A is walking now? Most surreal is to look at photos of your beautiful family at the same sites I visited in 2007, during my whirlwind 24 hours in Kathmandu. Life - the best ride EVER!
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